24 Hours of Passion
by lavizsla
Summary: A certain cheeky houseelf slips a certain potion into the stew at supper. But how will Hogwarts react when their night of passion is over and everyone realizes what they've been up to? Read and Review!
1. Prologue

**Summary: **A certain cheeky house-elf slips a certain potion into the stew at supper. Soon, the entire school has put all pretenses aside, and romantic fantasies are lived and born anew as everybody gets down and dirty... teachers included. But how will Hogwarts react when the potion wears off and everyone realizes what they've been up to?

**Pairings**: Numerous and diverse. If you've dreamed it up, it's probably in here somewhere.

**Rating: **M, obviously!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of these people... which is unfortunate, as I reckon they would make decent slaves.

Enjoy! And do review and tell me who you want to hear about next!

Prologue

"Tee hee!" cackled Dobby, a filthy house-elf dressed in several layers of hats, socks, and one extremely heinous house dress. "Dobby is going to help inter-house sentiment, he is!"

Quickly scurrying toward a large pot full of some obscure stew of sorts, the conniving beast removed a small flask from the crusty pocket of his house dress. He held it up to examine the contents: a lurid red liquid, which was bubbling slightly about the top.

Dobby glanced around anxiously, praying that none of the other brainwashed elf-slaves would notice his actions. "But Dobby is under direct orders from Dumbledore... sort of... I is doing it all right, right?"

The elf sat down pensively, trying to make sense of his mangled sentence structure. "Dumbledore said, 'Inter-house relations is at their worst... I don't know how we is going to fix them, Dobby.' So Dobby is going to Professor Snape's potions cupboard and stealing the biggest vial of Fwooper Goop that he is finding."

Dobby sighed and examined the label of the glass vial. "Enamorade Sere" was printed in fancy cursive letters on the thin parchment.

"En-amor-aid Seer," Dobby read slowly. He shrugged. "Well, I is thinking that it is just a fancy name for Fwooper Goop, I is."

He turned the vial over to examine the list of instructions. "Duration: 24 hours" was scrawled at the bottom. "Twenty-four hours is enough time, I is thinking," Dobby mused.

He gave one more furtive glance around the kitchens. None of the other elf-drones were watching him.

"Bottoms up," Dobby remarked resolutely, uncorking the vial and letting the contents flow in a red stream into the pot of soup. The surface of the liquid bubbled a bit more vigorously as the last few drops of Enamorade Sere hit it.

"What is Dobby doing?" a squeaky voice asked.

Dobby turned around to see Winky, another filthy elf-slave, staring at him wide-eyed.

"I is... I is just checking on the dinner, Winky!" he shouted, sounding very suspicious. Winky stared at him for a moment.

"What is that vial you is holding, Dobby?" Winky asked.

"It is... it is extra seasoning, Winky! Now go away!" Dobby ordered.

Winky gaped at him for a moment, clearly very hurt, before scurrying off.

Relieved, Dobby gave the stew a final stir. Soon a horde of house-elves marched forward and lifted the pot into the air, carried it to one of the four large tables in the center of the kitchen, and ladled it out into smaller tureens. Teams of two elves carted these to strategic locations along the four house tables, fitting them among dishes of lamb and baskets of raisin bread.

"Tee hee... the plan is already in motion, it is!" Dobby squealed to himself.

-

In the Great Hall, students were sitting and waiting for dinner. As usual, Draco Malfoy and his band of dastardly Slytherins were gossiping about Harry Potter, and Harry Potter and his close friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, were sitting around in contention.

"I told you a thousand times, Ronald! You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds!" Hermione, a girl with a pleasant face but, alas, an atrocious cloud of bushy brown hair, bitched.

"I know that! I just like to piss you off by saying randomly, 'Maybe we should just Apparate out of the castle'!" Ron, a gangly, red-haired youth with far too many freckles, replied, grinning cheekily and holding up his hand to give Harry a high five.

Harry, a scrawny fellow with lovely green eyes, unflattering round glasses, mangled black hair, and a large lightening bolt-shaped scar, rolled his eyes. "Honestly. You two spend far too much time arguing!" he remarked.

Farther down the table, Ginevra Weasley was toying with her fork, deep in thought. She had lately been feel uncomfortable around members of the opposite sex due to her recent acquisition of a nice figure. Curse those female hormones! Ginny knew that she would probably end up squat and plump like her mother, but until then, she was going to have to suffer the benefits and downsides of having a body most boys would kill to get at.

Lately, Ginny had noticed more males than usual staring at her, though these did not as yet include The Boy Who Lived, who seemed blind to her. Ginny was not sure if she was happy over this lack of attention or not.

Next to Ginny sat Neville Longbottom, a rather rounded boy who could not help but stare at Ginny's bosom, which was rather visible despite her drab, figure-concealing robes. Neville had yet to experience having a girlfriend, because he was boring and silly and in general had no sex appeal, but he had harbored a fanciful crush on Ginevra Weasley for at least two months now.

Down the table sat Parvati Patel, a pretty girl with long, dark hair and gorgeous eyelashes. She dearly despised the damn Hogwarts dress code. Figure-concealing robes, indeed! Parvati loved weekends, when she could wear whatever the hell she wanted.

Over at the Ravenclaw table, Cho Chang, a rather voluptuous and pretty girl, was chatting with her gaggle of girl friends. Cho currently had no romantic aspirations, because she was still emotionally scarred from her old boyfriend Cedric's death, as well as from the horrible experience of having dated the socially inept Boy Who Lived.

Down the table from Cho sat Padma Patel, Parvati's twin sister. The two looked remarkably alike, and also shared similar mindsets with regard to dress codes, weekends, and make up. Padma glanced toward the Hufflepuff table, where Ernie Macmillan, whom she had recently come to fancy despite herself, was sitting. Padma wasn't sure what she found so goddamn appealing about Ernie, but it was probably the daydream of smelling his cologne (it was really nice, Padma had noticed) while he held her in his strong, hard working Hufflepuff arms. It was not so much the idea of the person Ernie but the idea of spooning Ernie that got Padma aroused.

At said Hufflepuff table, Hannah Abbott, a pleasant if plain looking girl, was twirling a strand of blond hair idly around her finger. She was gazing longingly toward the Slytherin table, where Draco Malfoy, her latest fantasy, was laughing with his Slytherin friends. Hannah had had a burning crush on Draco ever since he had whirled around in the foyer one September afternoon, sending his white-blond hair flying in a graceful, shining halo about his head. Then he had smirked at one of his friends. Hannah had been instantly smitten.

Across from Hannah sat Ernie Macmillan, a tall, curly-haired boy who thought himself to be rather dashing. Currently, Ernie was waiting for the right girl to come along; his last crush had been Hermione Granger, and it had lasted until the day that he had realized she was actually quite ugly.

Across the Great Hall at the Slytherin table sat Draco Malfoy, surrounded by his cronies and admirers. Draco wasn't sure why he was so damn popular when he was actually sort of unappealing. "_I_ wouldn't be friends with me," he remembered thinking once. For Draco, school life was a game, something to trudge doggedly through before entering the real world. Still, he thought, glancing toward Cho Chang at the Ravenclaw table, Hogwarts did have its pluses...

"I think Weaslebee and Pothead could do with a punching, could they not?" Draco suggested, and everybody laughed. Draco wasn't sure why; it wasn't that funny.

Next to Draco sat Vincent Crabbe, a massive boy afflicted with shyness. No, Draco really _wasn't_ that funny... Vince wasn't sure why he always laughed at his master's lame jokes. Hell, he wasn't sure why he thought of Draco as his "master" in the first place. Vince glanced toward the Gryffindor table, where Ginevra Weasley – or "Weaselette," as Vince was always prone to refer to her around his friends – was sitting, looking pensive. Ginevra had become somewhat sexy lately... her facial features were still pretty regular – straight nose, normal eyebrows, etc. - and her hair was nothing exceptional, but she had recently sprouted a terribly enticing figure. "If only I weren't so damn shy," Vince thought desperately. "If only I could just talk to her..."

Across from Vincent Crabbe sat Pansy Parkinson, a girl who would have been pretty if not for her hideous, pug-like nose. ("Damn the person who invented noses!" she had remarked upon realizing that, when she covered her nose with her hand, she looked downright hot.) Pansy had ringlets of blond hair and a figure many girls would kill for. True, she had been getting a bit chunky lately – it was inevitable, considering what the older generation of females in her family looked like – but the roomy standard-issue school robes managed to hide any minor girth.

Pansy glanced across the table at Draco Malfoy, the boy she was supposed to be madly enamored of. Actually, she hadn't found him all that appealing lately; he was hot, sure, but she didn't think he liked her very much. Truth be told, Pansy was not sure where her current romantic intrigues lay.

Two seats down from Pansy sat Blaise Zabini, a boy cursed by a rather feminine-sounding name. (Though, according to all of the baby name books Blaise had checked, "Blaise" was only listed under boys' names. Blaise suspected that the confusion arose from such androgynous names as "Blaine" and "Blair.")

Other than that, however, Blaise was far from cursed: his father was Italian (hence the "Zabini") and his mother was French (hence the "Blaise"). He had inherited the best of both stereotypical looks. He had olive skin, lovely violet eyes (from his dear mum), and dark hair which fell loosely around his nicely-chiseled face. Blaise had screwed most of the girls in Slytherin and a few of the ones in Ravenclaw, but he hadn't ventured much further than that. Actually, Blaise had screwed far more people than Draco Malfoy, who was a virgin, despite what he oh-so-persistently claimed. Blaise's latest target had been Cho Chang, who was year older than he was and quite hot. Screwing her best friend Marietta the year before might have been a mistake in terms of achieving this new goal, but Blaise never looked back. After all, if Draco Malfoy was the sex-god of Slytherin, Blaise Zabini was truly the man-whore.

Up at the teachers' table, Albus Dumbledore was sitting stolidly and poking at his beard with a long finger. Albus sighed inwardly. He hadn't screwed anybody in ages. Being a wrinkled albeit powerful old man had many downsides.

To Dumbledore's right, Minerva McGonagall was sitting looking out over the students. She had no romantic fantasies and did not plan on having any; her loyalty to the late Mr. McGonagall was too strong.

Farther down the table sat the ever-resentful Severus Snape. Severus was resentful because his parents had named him "Severus." He was also pissed off because he hadn't gotten laid since his last year at Hogwarts, and only then because the girl in question (she was, sadly, dead now) had been drunk. Severus turned to gaze longingly down the teachers' table at Madam Hooch, who had captivated him for some time now.

Madam Hooch herself was glancing at Professor Dumbledore out of the corner of her eye. She had always had a thing for older guys. Then she glanced at Professor Trelawney, who had actually come down from her damn tower for once and was sitting next to her. "Sibyl, you look a nervous wreck," Hooch remarked pleasantly.

Sibyl turned to stare at Hooch, wide-eyed and quivering. "Something is coming!" she gasped. She shifted her gaze to look at Dumbledore, and her cheeks reddened. Though she would never, ever admit it, Sibyl Trelawney had been in love with Albus Dumbledore ever since the first day she had set eyes upon his gruesome old-man body that day in the Hog's Head.

Upstairs, Crookshanks was brooding. He hadn't been laid in years.

Downstairs, Mrs. Norris was sitting discontentedly. She, too, hadn't been laid in years.

Hedwig flew around aimlessly, also pissed off. She had never been able to build a nest and lay eggs.

Pigwidgeon was zipping around madly inside of the Gryffindor common room, annoyed because he had never gotten the chance to follow his bird instincts and find a mate.

Downstairs in the Great Hall, the food appeared on the tables. A contented murmur ran through the Great Hall and the clink of silverware commenced as people began to tuck in.

Below in the kitchens, Dobby smirked devilishly and said, "Ooh, it is now going to begin, it is!"

----------

Heh heh heh... like it? Hate it? (I sure hope not... if you do, just go away.)

So, from now on each chapter is going to be about one pairing! First up: Ginny and Malfoy!

Soon to come:

Hermione and Blaise!

Dumbledore and Trelawney!

Neville and his toad! (no, just kidding)


	2. GWDM

**Summary: **A certain cheeky house-elf slips a certain potion into the stew at supper. Soon, the entire school has put all pretenses aside, and romantic fantasies are lived and born anew as everybody gets down and dirty... teachers included. But how will Hogwarts react when the potion wears off and everyone realizes what they've been up to?

**Pairings**: Numerous and diverse. If you've dreamed it up, it's probably in here somewhere.

**Rating: **M, obviously!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of these people... which is unfortunate, as I reckon they would make decent slaves.

Enjoy! And do review and tell me who you want to hear about next!

Chapter One: Ginevra Weasley and Draco Malfoy

Ginny's first sensation upon taking a sip of her stew was, "Mmm... this is tasty stew."

Her second sensation was a sudden carelessness, almost as if she were asleep. Ginny felt as if she had not a care in the world. The asleep part passed quickly; she now felt remarkably free and uninhibited. "I can do whatever the hell I want," Ginny thought calmly. She also noticed that she no longer felt any rancor toward anybody. "All of those prejudices and pretenses are stupid, really," she mused to herself. "Why shouldn't I associate with the Slytherins and stuff?"

-

Over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy ate a spoonful of stew. "Damn, this is hot!" he remarked. Everyone laughed.

Draco groaned inwardly. His minions and their poor sense of what was funny and what was just stupid banter were starting to really piss him off.

"Look, just because I say something doesn't mean-" he began, but then he stopped as a marvelous feeling of calmness swept over him.

Predictably, the idiots around him took his break off of speech to be funny somehow, and many of them chuckled. Only Blaise Zabini, who was too refined and anyway too sexy, didn't bother. Nor did Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to have lost all interest in the conversation, as she was staring out across the Great Hall wistfully.

Draco glanced around at his companions, many of whom were now taking sips of their own stew. He looked out across the Great Hall as Pansy was doing. He instantly noticed Ginevra Weasley; she had become very hot lately. He had seen that earlier, of course; it was pretty blatant. However, it was not until this moment that he was actually able to grasp the fact that the Weaselette was hot.

"Dude, has Weaselette gotten really hot lately, or is it just me?" Draco asked Crabbe, feeling very surreal.

Crabbe stared at Draco, his mouth open slightly, his cheeks turning pink. "Uh..." he grunted. "Uh, sure..." He turned across the room to gaze at Ginny again, trying to pretend that he had only now noticed her hotness. Then he ate another spoonful of stew.

Draco was suddenly confused over why the Slytherins and the Gryffindors hated one another so much. "It's really stupid, this pre-programmed sentiment," he mused to himself. Draco looked more closely at Ginevra Weasley. Indeed, why had he _ever_ thought it was somehow against house protocol to go and talk to somebody as sexy as she?

"I want to go and talk to Weaselette," he announced. "I feel sort of... I don't know... sort of bad over how mean we've been to her."

Blaise, who was now blowing on his stew in preparation for eating it, turned to glance at Draco. "Are you fucking serious?" he asked. "Wow. Talk about changing your character on a dime..." He then said several exclamations in French and Italian.

Draco stared at him. "Um... the French I get, but..."

Blaise smirked at Draco, and didn't say anything.

"Well, actually, I don't care what you think," Draco said.

Blaise continued to smirk at him.

Draco glared back at him, suddenly understanding Blaise's smugness.

"I _do_ speak French! I _do_!" Draco shouted. "Jesus Christ, Blaise! Look at my last name: Malfoy. _Mal-foy. Bad-faith. C'est en français._ God, Blaise; you aren't the only one who's allowed to be bilingual!"

"Trilingual," said Blaise coolly.

"_Mon dieu_," Draco muttered, glancing toward the arched ceiling of the Great Hall. "_Pourquoi?_"

Blaise smirked. "Your accent is atrocious," he said, taking a careful sip of his stew.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "That's because my tutor never forced me to perfect it!" he cried, feeling very violated.

Blaise suddenly looked much less uptight. He was taking another sip of stew. "Whatever... _cher, allez parlent avec Weaselette_."

_Mais oui_" Draco agreed, nodding and standing up.

-

Ginevra Weasley was glancing around at her schoolmates. Many of them, upon completion of their stew, were laughing and joking with one another. Some had got up and walked over to other tables. Glancing toward the teachers, Ginny saw that many of them, too, were making merry. Indeed, Professor McGonagall was now sitting on the table as she chatted to Madam Hooch.

Ginny looked over at the Slytherin table. Now that she thought about it, there were quite a lot of good-looking Slytherins whom she had never really considered romantic fodder, though she saw now that there was plenty of potential. Blaise Zabini, for one thing, was exceptionally sexy, though Ginny had heard from Hermione that he was quite the man-whore. And Draco Malfoy, well, Ginny could hardly take her eyes off of his gorgeous hair. She wondered idly what shampoo he used.

Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise as Draco Malfoy stood up and began to walk toward the Gryffindor table. When he moved, his white-blond hair swished slightly. Ginny could never grow tired of watching it.

"What's that git doing coming over here?" she heard Ron say farther down the table.

"Hush up and eat your stew, Ronald," snapped Hermione, who had already finished hers. "Why _shouldn't_ he come over here?"

To Ginny's immense surprise, Draco Malfoy was now coming straight toward her. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. "But then again, like Hermione said, why _shouldn't _he come over here?" she mused.

"Good evening, Weaselette," said Malfoy pleasantly, walking up to her. He turned to Neville, who had just begun sipping his stew. "Scoot over, Longbottom," Malfoy commanded.

Neville stared at Malfoy forlornly, but then swallowed his latest spoonful of stew and seemed to think better of it. "Um, okay," he agreed, scooting to the next place along the table. Malfoy sat down next to Ginny.

"Good evening, Malfoy," said Ginny, sounding equally pleasant. After all, she reasoned, why shouldn't she talk to him? Negative inter-house sentiment was stupid.

"Um... Weaselette... _Ginevra_," said Malfoy, sounding somewhat awkward. "What I came over to tell you was that... well, that I'm sorry we're so mean to you sometimes."

Ginny stared at him in shock. "Wait, what?" she said.

Malfoy shrugged. "Well... it's just that all of this inter-house antipathy seems sort of... insignificant in the broad scheme of things," he explained.

Ginny felt her jaw drop. "I was just thinking the same thing," she admitted.

Malfoy gave her a half-smirk, and Ginny blushed despite herself. He was really quite sexy.

"Anyway," Malfoy continued, "I know you might be sort of pissed off at us, but the truth is, you per se never did anything to really annoy anybody. It's that damn brother of yours, see..."

Ginny smiled slightly. "Ah, yes, him," she recalled.

Draco laughed. "See, _you_ are actually funny! Not like my stupid housemates..."

Ginny frowned. "Um... thanks, I guess... but I thought you liked your friends."

Malfoy shrugged. "Well... lately they've become sort of annoying. I need to branch out more, I reckon. That's why I came over here, see? I was... I was hoping that you wouldn't hate me anymore, and so maybe..."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Maybe what?"

Malfoy smirked. "Maybe we could be friends. You know, just so I have more options of people to talk to." He sighed slightly. "I don't know what's come over me lately, but I really think it was stupid to uphold of those Slytherin prejudices against Gryffindor. It severely limited my social potential."

Ginny giggled. "Likewise. I wish I had more friends; I hang out with my brother and Harry and Hermione too much."

Malfoy smirked again. "Well... I'll see you around, Ginevra," he drawled, standing up.

"See you," Ginny replied. She felt happy; she liked being on good terms with people.

"Ginny?" Ron cried, looking down the table at her. "Were you just talking to Malfoy?"

Ginny shrugged. "Well, all of this inter-house sentiment is really quite stupid, Ron," she replied huffily.

Ron took another sip of stew and smiled slightly. "I know, it really is... whatever; I suppose you can talk to the git if you want to."

Ginny smiled back at him. "I'm glad you approve, Ronald."

She stood up. "In fact, I think I'll go and talk to him a bit more."

"I'll go with you," Neville piped up.

"Ooh! Me too, Ginny!" Hermione added.

Ginny nodded. "Great. Let's go," she agreed, and the three of them made their way over to the Slytherin table.

"Hello, hello," said Ginny, plopping down next to Draco while Hermione and Neville sat down across from them.

Draco turned to smirk at her. "Oh, hello, friend," he remarked.

Ginny laughed. So did Draco's cronies.

"Finally! Finally I say something that's actually worthy of laughter!" Draco exclaimed.

Everyone laughed again.

Draco stroked his chin thoughtfully, trying to decide if his latest remark had been worthy of their laughter. He glanced down the table and saw that Blaise, whom Hermione had just introduced herself to ("I know who you are, Granger; you're in my Ancient Runes and Arithmancy classes, remember?"), was chuckling slightly. Draco figured that if Blaise was laughing, his humor had been sufficient.

He turned back to Ginny.

"Why are you so uncomfortable with your sense of humor?" she asked.

Draco shrugged. "Well, I think I've grown less funny lately. Something about being bored with life," he drawled.

Ginny smiled. "Pity. Well, I'm sure life can get more interesting," she remarked.

Draco stared at her. Was Ginny intentionally trying to be suggestive, or was she just ridiculously innocent? He needed to confer with Blaise, but Blaise was still busy talking to Hermione.

Draco decided to take the chance that Ginny was far from innocent; after all, she had been into some pretty kinky shit with that Dean Thomas a while back. At least, according to Pansy, who knew all of the latest gossip...

Draco glanced across the table at Pansy, who was laughing at something Neville Longbottom had said. Draco smirked. Yes, all of this negative inter-house sentiment was ridiculous...

Turning back to Ginny, Draco put his hand on her thigh. Ginny looked down at it and giggled. "Hitting on me, are we, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco smirked ambiguously. "Perhaps, my pet," he replied, sliding his hand up her leg.

Ginny jerked away. "Perhaps we should go somewhere a tad more private?" she suggested.

Malfoy stared at her. "Just what are you suggesting?" he barked, pretending to be indignant.

Ginny laughed. Behind her, Draco saw Neville and Pansy stand up and walk off together.

He turned his gray eyes back to Ginny's brown ones.

"I'm suggesting that we don't linger here," she replied.

Draco smirked. "Well... I don't quite fancy staying here, either, seeing as I'm finished with supper, and all..."

"Shall we go for a walk?" Ginny suggested. Glancing around, she saw that many couples were standing up and leaving the Great Hall.

Down the table, Blaise seemed to have ditched Hermione, for he had bid her farewell and headed over to a group of Ravenclaws. Hermione frowned and stood up, too. She went toward Parvati Patel, said something, and the two of them walked off toward the marble staircase leading out of the Great Hall. As they went, Parvati examined a chunk of Hermione's hair and seemed to suggest something.

Ginny turned back to Draco, who was shrugging. "Alright, then," he agreed, offering her his arm. The two made their way across the Great Hall.

Behind them, Vincent Crabbe finished his stew, stood up, and decided to join Blaise Zabini and the group of Ravenclaws. After all, he reasoned, inter-house antipathy was stupid, as was being shy when there were so many new people to meet.

Draco and Ginny strolled through the corridors of Hogwarts, arm in arm. "So, Ginevra," Draco drawled.

"Call me Ginny," she said automatically.

"Ginny," he repeated. He thought for a moment, and then added, "And call me Draco... no more of this 'Malfoy' crap."

Ginny giggled. "As you wish, Draco... though honestly, either way your name has far too much negative connotation."

Draco frowned. "I know... what were my parents thinking? At least _your_ name means 'fair'... 'fair weasel,' but still..."

Ginny looked at him in surprise. "How ever did you know that?" she asked.

Draco smirked. "Oh, Blaise told me... we were discussing how unfortunate the names of everybody in Slytherin are, and Blaise has a whole bunch of baby name books that he uses for justification whenever people claim that 'Blaise' is a girl's name."

"Isn't it?" Ginny asked, confused.

Draco shook his head. "Apparently not. It's somewhat unfortunate in significance, though; it means 'lisp.' Or, _blésez_ means 'lisp,' actually; that's the word his name comes from."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "You speak French?" she asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Duh. Look at my last name. And look at my parentage: don't all of the rich little aristocrats get tutored in French?"

Ginny smiled sadly. "I wouldn't know."

Draco felt sort of guilty for always making fun of how poor her family was. However, he chose to continue with his story.

"Anyway, so one time Blaise and I were talking about... well, about how attractive you were getting, and..." Draco saw that Ginny was blushing, and he couldn't help but blush himself. "Well, anyway... he said, 'What's her real name? Virginia?' and I was like, 'Hell, no; it's Ginevra.' And Blaise was like, 'Oh, yeah, I figured her parents wouldn't give her a stupid, suggestive name like Virginia.' I asked, 'Why? What does it mean?' and he said, 'Well, "Virginia" means "virginal;" I mean, no shit... and Ginevra... well, you can double-check, but in Italian it means... well, "fair one," I guess.'" Draco turned to smile at Ginny. "And I double checked, just for the hell of it, and it _does_ mean 'fair one.' So, Fair One... who is not chaste..."

Ginny slapped his arm lightly. "Draco!" she exclaimed.

Draco smirked. She was flirting now.

"...Let Dragon lead you to the prefects' bathroom!" Draco finished.

Ginny blushed bright red. "'Dragon?' Good God... well, alright, Draco... if you insist..."

Draco smirked. "I do," he announced, pulling Ginny into a passionate embrace.

Ginny squirmed for a moment, but then she figured, "Oh, what the hell; he is terribly sexy, after all." Thus, when Draco pressed his lips against hers, Ginny didn't mind in the least.

Then he carried her off to the prefects' bathroom. Once inside, he turned to her. Smirking, he removed his robes to reveal his jeans and t-shirt. Ginny removed hers as well, to reveal a button-down polo shirt and dark cotton skirt.

"You look far better in muggle clothes than you do in these heinous robes," Draco remarked.

"As do you," Ginny admitted, coming toward him and placing her slender hands on his chest. She could feel his heart beating through the thin polyester.

"I want you, Ginny," Draco murmured, yanking her toward him and beginning to snog her.

Soon, the two had sunk to the floor of the prefects' bathroom. Draco unbuttoned Ginny's blouse and practically ripped off her lacy white bra. Ginny retaliated by doing the same to him, though without the bra ripping part. Soon, the two were completely naked and rolling around on the soft carpet beside the huge bathtub.

"Maybe... we should... go... into the... bathtub," Draco gasped as Ginny bit him somewhere unmentionable.

Ginny grinned. "But that would... take so... long," Ginny gasped back.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Go away!" Draco shouted.

"Okay!" a muffled voice called back. It sounded familiar, though Draco wasn't sure who it was.

Draco pushed Ginny against the floor. They started shagging. Draco Malfoy, virgin indeed... Blaise would be so proud.

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Next up: Blaise (speak of the devil!) and Hermione! 


End file.
